


No Room For Secrets

by Crawlingthroughashes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bickering, Confessions, M/M, Sparring, gays in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7310386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crawlingthroughashes/pseuds/Crawlingthroughashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith thought he and Lance had reached a bit of an understanding the night Lance was injured. He should have realized that Lance had a monopoly on being the most obnoxious, petty brat in the galaxy.<br/>Or, Shiro forces the two to engage in more team bonding exercises as a means to put an end to their bickering, but a lot more than bonding occurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Room For Secrets

Was it normal to want to strangle one of your teammates? Keith supposed not, but to be fair, there was nothing even remotely normal about Lance. A twinge of irritation buried deep into Keith's bones, but he remained composed despite the heat simmering under his skin. "Lance. What the hell are you doing with my helmet?" 

The brown haired boy took a preemptive step behind the counter, distancing himself from Keith as he brandished the red helmet. "Hunk and I were just testing out the recording feature." 

"Recording feature," he echoed. 

"I know right! I didn't even know there was one." 

A pressure fulminating against his skull indicated the start of a migraine. "Why," Keith asked slowly, "did you feel the need to use _my_ helmet?"

"Well I couldn't record this kind of stuff on mine. What if Shiro heard it? He'd throw me into space!" 

This gave Keith pause. "What kind of stuff?" 

Lance pressed some sort of switch inside the helmet. A burst of static filled the air. 

_"Hey... I didn't know these babies could record too!"_ More indecipherable static, before the air was filled with a series of dramatized moans intermingled with bursts of laughter. 

"A-are you serious?" he blanched. "How immature are you?" 

"It was Hunk's idea!" 

Keith rounded on Hunk, who had been watching their exchange silently.

"D-don't look at me," he said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I didn't do anything! Honest, I just came to the kitchen to get something to eat." 

"True," Lance conceded. "But he didn't stop me! And that's just as bad, right?" 

Keith's last thread of patience snapped. Without warning, he lunged across the counter, making a wild swipe for his helmet. Lance darted out of the way, holding up the helmet with a roguish smile. "I want my mullet back," he recorded in that totally obnoxious and grating voice of his. 

"Give it to me!"

Lance stage gasped. "You want me to give _what_ to you?" 

"Lance you piece of shit!" 

Lance just grinned and dodged Keith's next futile grab for the helmet. After expending quite a bit of effort, he managed to tackle Lance's legs. Their impact against the ground was jarring, like a meteor colliding against the rough-hewn surface of a planet. Keith's helmet slipped out of Lance's grasp, rolling across the room until it came to rest in front of a pair of black and grey boots. Keith and Lance looked up in tandem, their gazes locking with Shiro's. _Ah, damn._

"The princess," Shiro began in a clipped, staccato manner, "is trying to rest, and I could hear you two from half way across the castle." 

"I didn't even do—" Keith started to protest, but Shiro's gaze silenced him. 

"Voltron depends on unity between the entire team. And the two of you are holding the rest of us back." 

Keith wanted to argue that they'd already formed Voltron multiple times without too much difficulty, but speaking against Shiro seemed imprudent. 

The black paladin frowned in thought. "Until you two can settle your juvenile bickering, you'll spend training time together, doing team bonding exercises." 

Lance scrambled to his feet. "B-but we already had a really intense bonding moment! Even Keith said so! In front of the entire team, even." 

"You were half-conscious and badly injured," Shiro interjected. "I hardly think that constitutes as a good bonding moment. And even if it did, it clearly wasn't enough." 

Lance's shoulders slumped in defeat. Keith wanted to scream. 

"Go on, you can get a few training sessions in before dinner. Don't make me get Coran to babysit you." 

* * *

There was not a word in his lexicon for how utterly annoying Lance was. He was the one who had gotten them into this mess, so he had absolutely no right to be pouting. 

"Are you going to sit there all day?" Keith snapped. "Or are you actually going to do something productive?"

"Uhh... the first one."

Keith frowned. "This is all your fault, you know." 

"My fault? You were the one yelling." 

"Because you recorded yourself moaning like an idiot in my helmet. Why would you even think to do that?" 

Lance gave a half-hearted shrug. "I figured if the helmets could transmit audio to each other, they could record too."

"I meant the moaning part." 

"Oh. Well, it's a good life skill to perfect." 

Keith was not impressed. "Do you really think that's a skill _you're_ going to need?" 

"Hey!" He sure was easy to rile up. "I'll have you know I've done lots of moaning already. And secondly, it's a skill that could come in handy. Like, for instance, maybe some day on earth I'll be offered a job voicing hentai, or something." 

"Okaaay," the urge to roll his eyes had never been greater. "First off, I did not need to know that. Second, that's not going to happen. And until we defeat the Galra, we have no chance of even returning to earth. But in the meantime, we might as well train." 

Lance grimaced. "Shiro's not even here. He won't know if we just sit here and chill." 

"I'm not going to waste hours of my time with you doing nothing." Keith readied his weapon without preamble, the red sword elongating in his hand. He turned it back and forth, admiring the familiar heft. 

Out of the periphery of his vision, he saw Lance activate his bayard, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "You know, it just doesn't seem fair. You have a sword, I have a blaster made for long range combat. There's no way we can have a fair fight when I clearly have the superior weapon." 

"Prove it," Keith said, speaking in a low cadence. 

"Alright," Lance sighed. "Don't say I didn't—" Keith disarmed him in the time it took to blink, sending the blue paladin's weapon skittering to the far wall of the training room. "—Warn you..."

Lance looked from Keith, to his own weapon, and back again. "I wasn't ready."

"Clearly." 

Keith waited patiently for Lance to retrieve his bayard. Once he'd returned, Keith lowered himself into a fighting stance. Lance tried to mirror his body language, but his stance was a sloppy rendition. Keith smothered a nascent grin. He knew he wasn't the best at combat, given that he rarely made it past the third training level, but it was clear he had an edge over Lance. 

"You going to attack, or anything?" Keith asked.

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a few ticks." 

"Trying to figure out the least embarrassing way to lose?" 

Lance let out an indignant squawk. "I'm strategizing, you ass!" 

Keith didn't bother to muffle the mocking snort that escaped him. 

"Oh, you are so going down, pretty boy!" 

Keith arched an eyebrow. "You think I'm pretty." 

"P-pretty weird, yeah." 

Oh, so now _he_ was the one that was weird. Wasn't that a surprising turn of events. He watched Lance fiddle with his weapon for a few more moments, staring expectantly at him all the while.

Lance aimed his gun. "Okay." 

"It's upside down." 

"It's supposed to be held like that!" Lance argued, but Keith noticed him try to subtly turn it upright. 

Keith waited, gaze never leaving Lance's gangly figure. _Your move,_ he tried to silently convey. 

Lance positioned his finger on the trigger and fired, but flinched at the recoil. Keith dodged easily, prepared for the next attack. He ran in a jagged line, and began to deflect the onslaught of energy blasts using his sword. It wasn't exactly accurate to call Lance a lousy shot, but his aim could definitely use some polishing up. Keith purposely kept his distance for a few minutes, just long enough for Lance's noodle-arms to tire of holding up such a heavy weapon. 

He slowly advanced towards Lance. The latter began backing away, knowing that as soon as they were in close proximity, his ranged weapon would be rendered useless, and the fight would be over. 

Keith had always preferred to train alone, enjoying the solitude and chance to clear his head, he found himself liking the extra rush of adrenaline that versing an actual opponent evoked. Lance's dark blue eyes were wide as he was backed into the far wall. His shirt was adhered to his body from sweat, clinging to his thin frame and leaving nothing to the imagination. Keith rarely had a chance to stare at Lance (and he rarely felt the urge to) so he was surprised to realize just how long his lashes were. They framed his eyes nicely, and at the moment, were fluttering rapidly. 

Keith's lips curved into a small smirk, but before he could move in to strike, Lance's gun jolted in his hands. 

Keith instinctively reeled away from the blast of light. He careened to the side, but the shot grazed his shoulder, pain instantly flaring across his skin. 

"Oh shit. Dude, I am so sorry!" Lance babbled. 

Keith gripped his shoulder, it was slick with blood, and the fabric was faintly smoldering, but it didn't seem to be a very serious wound. It just stung. A lot. 

"Ugh." He tried prodding the wound, but his arm gave an involuntary jerk backwards at the pain. His elbow made a crunching sound. Or rather, what his elbow hit made a crunching sound.

"Gaah!" 

Keith whirled around, still clutching his wounded shoulder. 

Blood was gushing out of Lance's nose in torrents from where Keith's elbow had apparently struck it. Lance staggered back, before promptly falling on his butt.

Great. Because one of them injured wasn't enough. Keith gritted his teeth. "Let's get to the infirmary." That was easier said than done. Lance didn't seem capable of walking on his own. He was evidently weak and lightheaded from the sudden loss of blood. 

"Uh, put your arm around me." 

"Huh?" Lance mumbled. 

Keith sighed. He was going to have to do everything himself. After propping Lance into an upright position, Keith pulled Lance's arm around his uninjured shoulder. "Lean on me," he instructed, trying to channel Shiro's strict-no-arguing-with-me voice.

Lance swayed as they stood up, clutching onto the fabric of Keith's shirt. Lance's smell was a combination of unsavory things including sweat, blood, and that repugnant space juice Coran seemed to love, and it took all of Keith's resolve not to push him away. 

They slowly stumbled out of the training room, Lance muttering a litany of curses as they headed for the infirmary. 

At the end of the corridor was Pidge, sitting in a small alcove and typing away at their computer. 

Pidge could probably hear Lance a mile away due the expletives he was spouting. 

"How'd training go, guys?" Pidge asked, not looking up from the computer screen. 

"Could've gone better," Keith answered truthfully. 

"No shit," Lance started to say, but a trickle of blood ended up in his mouth while he talked. He made a loud gagging noise. 

"You two really can't— _oh what the quiznak!_ " Pidge's jaw dropped. "Lance, your nose! And why is Keith's shoulder smoking?" 

Keith considered making a crack about how he was always smoking, but he had a feeling he'd end up stuttering. And the quip was more Lance's style, afterall.

"You two needed medical attention." 

"Yeah, that'd help." 

Pidge scrambled up, before guiding them down the hall. 

* * *

Shiro massaged his temples. "You two can't even handle a sparring match." His tone was more incredulous than angry.

Keith rubbed at his shoulder. The sensation of his skin rapidly knitting itself back together was... not something he wanted to repeat. Along with healing pods, the infirmary also had synthetic skin cells that worked to heal torn or mangled flesh. There was something mystical about watching the synthetic skin at work. He was beginning to understand why, in the past, science was often mislabeled as sorcery or witch craft. 

"This is most disheartening to hear," Allura sighed, her voice pulling Keith from his thoughts. "Dissonance between the paladins only strengthens the Galra. We need to all work together." 

Lance was uncharacteristically silent, and Keith had nothing he wanted to offer to the conversation. 

Allura looked almost devastated. Which was a total and complete overreaction. "I do hope you two are able to settle your differences. If not for the team, then for the sake of the universe."

Keith picked at his cuticles, tuning everyone out until they lost interest and eventually filed out of the room. A stagnant sort of silence descended upon them; one that lasted longer than Keith was comfortable with. 

The tense quiet was only broken when Lance spoke up. "I can't believe you broke my nose."

"Well you... you shot me!" 

"I didn't think it'd hit you! I thought you were good at dodging." 

"I _am_ good at dodging!" 

"Then why...?" 

"I was distracted," he said lamely. 

"Oh," Lance replied, and though he said nothing more, there was a clear question in his gaze. Keith refused to elaborate. 

"Well, so much for training together." 

"We can still train," Keith interjected, his eyes focused out the window, and pointedly not at Lance. He counted the individual stars in the sky to distract himself. He'd almost given up on expecting an answer when Lance let out a quiet, "Ok. Just, preferably nothing physical." 

* * *

After a bit of debate, they decided on doing what Lance had eloquently referred to as "the mind meldy thingy."

With his nose fully healed, Lance plopped down across from Keith. "Come on. No secrets between paladins, right?" 

Keith gave an unconvincing nod, before settling on the ground. The first and only time they'd tried this activity, it had been cut short when Pidge withdrew from it, given the whole secret that 'he' was actually a 'she,' but really didn't care what gender they were labeled as. 

Keith had secretly been relieved at the time. He didn't have anything he wanted to hide per se, but he wasn't too fond of giving others the invitation to pry though his thoughts. And if there was something he wanted kept to himself, he couldn't really hide it. After all, trying to not think about something was pretty much the same as thinking about it.

Of course, he understood why the activity was necessary. It enabled the paladins to understand each other better, to work together as a single unit. It eliminated the chance for any personal emotional baggage, but it also had it's drawbacks. They had a right to privacy, didn't they? 

"You ready?" Lance asked, waggling his eyebrows. 

Keith rolled his eyes. "Sure. I guess." 

He let his eyes gradually slip closed. It was different without Coran giving them step-by-step instructions, but he remembered well enough what they had to do. Open their minds to each other. Focus on one thing. The touch of Lance's mind against his own was like a caress of wind against his cheek. It wasn't really a tangible thing, not solid or definite, but he could sense it nonetheless. 

Lance's thoughts flashed in a whirlwind of sensory detail. He saw a group of people. Lance's family. A woman with dark hair giving Lance a hug. 

A sudden ache made Keith's chest constrict. It seemed he was experiencing the emotions that accompanied the memories, too. Homesickness. Worry. Some other emotion he couldn't put a name too. 

The next thing he knew, a more forceful thought was entering his mind. _Injury. The bomb._

That voice in his head... that was Lance. They were supposed to find harmony, to focus on one thing. But Keith didn't particularly want to share that memory. He put up a bit of resistance, but Lance worked his way around it. _The bomb. Bonding. Your arms._

The memory swirled to the forefront of Keith's brain. The memory seemed hazy, and a bit out of focus as he watched it unfold. He witnessed for the second time as Lance briefly emerged from his state of unconsciousness to fire his gun at Sendak, before recollapsing. He saw himself grab Lance's hand, the two of them sharing a small, private smile. 

Lance's voice, breathy and weak. "We did it. We are a good team."

Him pulling Lance up, their faces so close that when Lance exhaled, his breath landed cool against Keith's skin. Lance starting to black out again, Keith holding him in his arms, and carrying him (with difficulty) to the healing pods. Pidge staring at the sight of an unconscious Lance in Keith's arms, shaking their head fondly and saying, "gay."

The real Keith yanked himself away, closing his mind as best he could. He felt his stomach twist and coil with nausea. 

Lance stared up at Keith, an unreadable expression on his face. "A little close to my butt, don't you think?"

"What?" Keith blurted, flummoxed by Lance's statement.

"When you carried me, your hand was literally right below my butt. If Shiro and Allura weren't there, you totally would've gone in for an ass grab!"

"I would not!" He protested indignantly. His cheeks burned as if he were only an increment away from the nearest star. The whole conversation made him uncomfortable. It felt weird to have someone rifle through his memories so deliberately. A byproduct of the affection and relief he'd felt in that moment was likely just experienced by Lance, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Or how that entire occurrence could be construed. 

The idiot had the audacity to feign hurt, blind to Keith's unease. "So you _don't_ like my ass?"

Keith ignored him. "Are we going to do this or not?" he demanded, unable to keep the vitriol out of his voice. "Because that attempt was pretty bad." 

"Alright," Lance straightened up, the teasing inflection gone from his voice. Keith waited until Lance's eyes were closed before shutting his own. 

This time, he was going to take charge. 

There were hardy any barriers when Keith tried to search through Lance's thoughts. He wasn't completely certain what he wanted to find. Maybe something he could use as ammunition against him. Something like that probably wouldn't be a surface-level thought, though. He'd have to delve deeper. 

Keith concentrated, clearing his own mind so that he could better focus on Lance's. 

A heavy cloud of emotion choked Keith, a plethora of different feelings all hitting him at once. It was disorienting, but he was able to pick one emotion out of the mess around him. He followed it as if it were an individual thread in a giant tapestry. It felt a bit like embarrassment, but heavier, more like shame. There was something pleasant coinciding with it. He was confused, and it didn't help that Lance seemed to be fighting him. _"No secrets, remember?"_ He sent the thought out, hoping Lance would hear it. It seemed to do the trick. Lance's split second of hesitation was the opening he needed.

Keith latched onto the memory, letting the scene envelop him like a large blanket. There was something rather strange about this memory, but he couldn't pinpoint what. He waited for the memory around him to unfold, shock rippling through him as it did. 

Lance was with someone. _With_ them in a way that definitely wasn't PG. 

Lance's eyes were half-lidded, his lip caught between his teeth as he stared at the person across from him. A person that was most definitely male. His partner pressed in close, until they were flush against each other, before curling his hand around him. 

It was all very odd to watch. 

Keith could see who Lance was kissing, see the other's face and hair and features, and it was all recognizable, but he couldn't process who it was. It was like having a word on the tip of his tongue but not being able to determine it. His brain couldn't connect the dots. It was some sort of odd, mental block. 

Not that it really mattered. In the moment, he was more concerned with watching what Lance was doing, rather than focus on who he was doing it with. 

Lance and his partners' mouths moved together fervently until their lips were reddened and bruised. His partners' lips moved roved along jaw, before sucking against his pulsepoint. Lance shuddered, clinging to the other boy with white-knuckled hands. He held on as if the boy was his life-line; his tether. Lance was strangely silent throughout all of their heated touches and kisses. It was bizarre. Normally he wouldn't shut up. 

The only sounds he did make were the intermittent gasps and sighs as he arched against the other boy, their bodies moving together in order to draw out pleasure. 

There was something weird curling in Keith's chest. A feeling he secretly suspected was akin to jealousy. He shoved his own feelings aside so he could better focus on the memory he was witnessing. Now that he thought about it, there was something weird about what he was seeing. Something almost artificial. It was too bright, and too lurid to be real. A fantasy, then. Not an actual memory. Keith had no right to the relief that revelation supplied him. He had no right to any of what he was seeing. 

He felt something between them snap, and before he knew it, the scene around him had dissolved. Lance and Keith were back in the training room. But not for long. Lance was already on his feet, face completely blank as he stormed away. 

Keith wanted to call out to him, to... to say something. But he couldn't. The scene replayed in his mind, but this time, without Lance actively trying to hide it, he could see things clearer. 

For starters, the boy Lance had been with? He was unmistakable. Lance had imagined himself with Keith. 

* * *

Hunk let lout a drawn-out sigh when Keith arrived alone at the table for dinner. "What did Lance do now?"

"Nothing," Keith murmured. And it was true. This time Lance wasn't at fault. Keith was. 

He was both guilty and confused about what had transpired. He'd always expected Lance to fantasize about Allura, or some other attractive female. Was it all just a cover? Was he so outspoken and forthright about his attraction to girls as a means to cover up his sexuality? Did he like both?

It didn't matter. It wasn't Keith's business in the slightest. Not after he'd gone and invaded Lance's personal space. The two were supposed to be bonding, but Keith had just made tensions between them run even higher. 

He'd rather be shot in the shoulder again than have to deal with this.

Keith cleared his throat, averting his eyes. "Do you guys have any idea where Lance is?" His voice sounded as small as he felt. 

Allura and Coran exchanged a look. "We thought he was with you." the Royal Adviser admitted. 

Keith shook his head wordlessly. "I"m gonna go look for him." 

"Are you sure you don't want to eat first?" Coran asked. "There's still food left for you." 

"I'll eat it," Hunk offered. 

Keith slipped down the hall. He'd search the entire palace if he had to. He couldn't let what happened fester between them. He had to apologize. And if Lance wouldn't accept his apology then... then that was that. 

As his search went on, it became increasingly clear that Lance didn't want to be found. He considered calling his name, but Keith felt like enough of an idiot already. 

After covering all the main corridors, Keith finally found Lance sequestered in a small room with a large, ovoid window overlooking the rest of the planet. 

Keith swallowed heavily. Here goes nothing.

"I lied," was the first thing that left his mouth. 

Lance flinched, before turning. His face was still painfully blank. Unreadable. Indecipherable. But still managing to be cold. 

"Um, when I said I didn't know who you were, I lied. I did remember you, from the Garrison." Keith was never one to try to to get to know people, but part of his instincts as a pilot was to commit as much of his surroundings to memory as possible. And back at the Garrison, Lance had been a big part of his surroundings. Always loud, with a raucous laugh and a large presence. The reason he never paid him any attention was because he knew Lance was envious of him. And it was more than that. When he finished his first simulation, and his eyes had snagged on Lance's expression, he'd been greeted with sheer awe and admiration. In that moment, Lance had looked at Keith as if he'd hung the very stars in the sky himself. It made him uncomfortable. He knew he was only going to let people down. Their expectations and idealizations were a weight he wasn't strong enough to carry. So he refused them. 

"I'm sorry," Keith continued. "For prying like that. It's just, when you saw my memory, I was embarrassed. So I figured I'd get even by finding one of your embarrassing memories. But I found _that_ instead." He sucked in a breath. "It was an invasion of privacy and it was wrong." 

Lance was silent, but his expression seemed to have softened somewhat. Or maybe that was just hopeful thinking on Keith's part. 

"I'm sorry," he said again, aware of how pathetic he sounded. 

Lance coughed quietly. "What part of your memory was embarrassing?" 

Keith blinked. "Uh... the part where we staring at each other and I was about to kiss you but then you passed out so I cradled you in my arms?" 

"You were about to kiss me?!"

Keith shifted on the spot. "Um, well, I was probably going to argue with myself about it for a few minutes first. Weigh the pros and cons. Try to decide whether or not you'd reciprocate or if I'd just make a fool out of myself... like I am now." 

Lance's eyes looked brighter than a supernova. "Honestly, Keith," he said exasperatedly. "Do you ever just go for things without thinking about it first?" 

"Well, when I invaded your privacy, I didn't really think about it first. Well I did, sorta, but I didn't think about the effects it would have and... yeah." By the time Keith had finished speaking, Lance was a hair-width away from him. He stared dumbly, watching as Lance wet his lips with his tongue. Lance's pupils were dilated, and Keith stared, utterly transfixed. They were like black holes, sucking him in and swallowing him up. He was going to be consumed by those eyes, and he'd let it happen without a modicum of regret. No offense to Lance's imagination, but this was way better than his fantasy. Keith felt a gravitational pull, and it was as if he was a satellite caught in Lance's orbit. He bridged the distance between them without further thought. 

Lance's lips were rough and textured against his own. Chapstick unfortunately didn't exist in space. They were still soft despite their cracked state, however. Soft, and pliant and... and Keith had finally found a foolproof way to shut Lance up! 

After a moment of cautiously pressing their lips together, Lance shifted, changing the angle. Keith felt a hand in his hair, running through the strands. Pulses of energy thundered through him, electrifying his nerve endings. Lance gave an insistent tug on his hair. _Who wants my mullet now?_

Keith wrapped an arm around Lance. He was tense, and the half-hug he had going on was extremely stiff and awkward, but he prayed Lance wouldn't notice that he was shaking. 

Lance broke away from the kiss to rest his face against Keith's neck, inhaling deeply. It seemed an odd thing to do, considering Keith had yet to shower and probably smelled like sweat, but he kept quiet. 

"First you break a guy's nose, then you kiss him," Lance hummed. "Talk about mixed signals." 

"S-shut up." 

Lance laughed, his breath fanning across Keith's neck. "So, do you like me, Keith?"

Keith's lips puckered as if he'd tasted something sour. "I...I guess so." 

"You guess so?" Lance parroted. "That's the worst love confession I've ever received!" He paused thoughtfully. "But I guess it's technically the only love confession I've ever received, so I guess I'm gonna have to take it." 

"You're... You're terrible. And on second thought, I retract my apology. Next time we do that exercise I'm going to search through all of your most embarrassing memories."

"You wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't. Only because everything you do is an embarrassment."

Lance tilted his head. "So if I did you, does that make _you_ the embarrassment?"

"What the fuck."  


**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at one a.m. pls forgive me


End file.
